Lar Tathvaal heard a door bang open, and he knew precisely whose door it was.

He hustled down the hallway toward Jarel Craith’s offices, intercepted him when he came around the corner.

Lar smiled. “A moment of your time, Praetor?”

Jarel looked as stressed as was possible for his wooden face. Which was to say he contained it well. On the best day of his life and the worst day of his life, Jarel Craith would look exactly alike to most people. But Lar knew the man well enough to see the set jaw, the tension at the corners of his eyes.

“Later,” said Jarel, who tried to step around Lar. “I have urgent business with the Governess.”

“Concerning the Imbued called Redmane, yes?”

Jarel stopped walking. His eyes widened, ever so slightly.

Lar supposed even a stranger would notice the change. Perhaps the Praetor could emote after all.

“You knew about this?”

Lar smirked. “Some things were brought to my attention, recently”

He’d wrung out Helmold Brecht for every last drop of information he had. It was an enlightening report.

“A major anomaly in the System has occurred,” said Jarel. “We must bring this to Mecia’s attention straightaway.”

“Is that what we have to do?”

Lar smiled. Jarel gave him a deadpan look.

“Suppose you took this straight to her,” said Lar. “What course would you then recommend?”

“The immediate capture of the anomaly, for purposes of study.”

“Study…” Lar’s smile became a smirk. He knew without having to ask that Jarel meant ‘vivisection.’

That would not do at all. Redmane was going to be his pawn. Being gutted like a fish and studied wouldn’t serve his purposes much at all.

“Well, allow me to make an alternate proposition,” he continued. “If we have indeed found the originator of this Blight, perhaps the wisest course would be to begin by studying it from afar.”

“It’s already beaten something nearly twice its level,” said Jarel. “If we don’t—“

Lar raised a hand to halt him. “Do we not possess force adequate to resolve any problem?”

Jarel paused. Nodded, albeit reluctantly.

“Then what do we lose by simply observing for a time? Clearly there are things about the people of this world we did not know, else the Blight would not have taken us by surprise. Whatever develops, perhaps we should let it unfold before taking action.”

Jarel’s mouth twisted slightly. Lar knew he was trying to find a sensible objection.

Lar knew how to stick a dagger in the argument’s neck.

“Do you truly believe the System makes mistakes?” Lar asked.

Jarel frowned. It took him a moment to answer. “It does seem strange.”

Lar nodded, gave the Jarel a reassuring smile, and placed his hand on the Praetor’s shoulder to usher him back toward his own offices. “I believe we aren’t seeing the portrait clearly yet. Let us wait, and watch, so as not to disturb the painter. And then we shall proceed with our eyes wide open. Why not start by showing me what you saw just now…”

Lar Tathvaal knew he’d only bought a small amount of time.

He’d have to make the most of it.

- - - -

Redmane took his 5 points and put them in Might.

Might 45 —> 50

He then consumed the Sicarius Sword and the God Slayer’s Oculus, which left him with a decision to make.

Three weapon qualities. Fast 5, Spirit Touch 1 and Vorpal 1. He wasn’t sure what ‘Vorpal’ meant, but he guessed it had something to do with sharpness. The blade of the Sicarius was so keen he’d barely felt it when it ran him through. And he’d only noticed half his hand was gone when he saw his fingers fall off.

He decided to feed Fast to his bite, and the others to his claws.

—

Weapon Profile:

Claws

Damage +30

Evasion Negation 10 (Fast 5)

Corpus damage over time on hit (Rending 4)

Armor +4 while blocking (Defensive 2)

Attacks damage up to 4 foes (Cleaving 3)

Spirit Touch (Godslayer 1)

Vorpal (Godslayer 1)

Bite

Damage +30

Armor Penetration +8

Evasion Negation 20 (Fast 10)

—

The list was getting a bit heavy on one side. But it was better that way, his claws were his main weapon.

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They also seemed to have lost their armor penetration value.

He examined them. They looked as sharp as they had before, but their tips had a peculiar, almost blurry quality when they moved. It was a subtle thing, something one wouldn’t have noticed unless they were looking carefully.

Redmane looked around for a rock.

He found a suitably sized one near the river bank. It was about the shape of a human head. He tossed it up and struck it on its way down.

At first it felt like he’d missed. His claw just whipped through the air.

But then five sections of rock landed at his feet, neatly sliced, like a loaf of bread.

Redmane’s eyebrows rose.

This would do nicely.

As for the God Slayer’s Oculus, he was supposed to be able to see spirits now.

Something to look forward to, he supposed.

Unless spirits didn’t enjoy being observed. Fortunately he had a solution for that as well.

Perhaps he’d encounter some as he navigated the cavern system which led to Rollo’s Pass. It lay before him, just as the Sanctuary map had shown him earlier. He spent a goodly time attempting to memorize it, made one or two poor attempts at drawing it on paper, and then a better idea struck him.

An idea he could now put into action.

Spawn

Corpus: 6035

He created five weasel-like spawn with good eyes for the dark, the better to cover ground quickly and navigate. They scampered off into the caves ahead, and Redmane had a seat by the edge of the river while he waited and guided them.

Shortly the cavern branched into two, the main river cave and an offshoot. He’d seen this part on the map. But then both of these caverns branched as well, and there was another offshoot from the river cave roughly a mile from the first.

From there, it became complicated.

Redmane switched between the eyes of his five small scouts, changing their routes when he needed, making them double back when he recognized the cave he occupied wasn’t the one he was looking for.

The vision of a rodent was an unusual thing. Not quite like seeing the world in color. More like in shapes. The sort of hazy images one would see if they stared at something too long and they could see the after image when they closed their eyes. But it would suffice.

He also had keen noses to rely on. And there was a particular scent he was looking for.

Well water.

Pietr had explained it. Told him what to look for. Deep beneath the town called Rollo’s Pass there was a well. A well which had been built long ago by the Omeni civilization. Wherever the Bear River originated was likely near the aquifer which fed this well, which itself was supposed to be a temple of some kind.

The temple lay at the bottom of this underground well, and its stairs wound all the way up to the place where Rollo’s Pass had been built by the Stahlmen.

Throughout the night, Redmane made his way through the caverns with his spawn scouting ahead to eliminate the routes he didn’t want to take. He would move in what seemed like the correct direction, then stop and send out the spawn, then move again. Always heading in the direction of the scent of well water.

The journey gave Redmane time to think.

He had learned much. But it still felt as though he knew nothing.

Great efforts had been taken to ensure he would never learn any of this. It was the Numantians, ultimately, whose actions led to his freedom. To his Astral Communion. It would seem as though these foreigners had done everything short of embracing him as one of their own and inviting him to dinner.

So why had the Sicarius attacked him?

There were a few possibilities, and they were all troubling.

Judging by the reactions of the Imbued, especially Helmold and Radovid, the System didn’t accept things like him. They told him as much. And he’d come upon Astral Communion by happenstance, thanks to the actions of Aric Morholt.

That Sicarius might have known exactly who he was, and why he was there, and was lying in wait to eliminate him.

Which presented the worst possibility of all.

The Numantians were out to correct a mistake, and he had a traitor in his midst.

The words of that old crone came back to him.

A parting word of caution for thee. Not all who aid thee are thy allies, and not all who fight thee are thy foes.

Now that he thought of it, he hadn’t seen Helmold when he returned to the castle from Barograd.

It seemed innocuous at the time. But perhaps he’d been hiding from him.

Redmane would have to have a one on one chat with Helmold Brecht when next he returned…

In the darkness it was difficult to tell how much time had passed. Perhaps the sun was coming out by now. He wouldn’t be able to tell, this deep in the earth. Regardless, he eventually found the place where the cavern became something other than a natural fissure in the rock.

It was one of his little scouts who found it. First it was a flat, winding path, then a curving stairway, then an arch, and he stood upon a smooth stone floor.

There were signs of life in here, remarkably. The scent of fresh food, of sweat on worn linen. He also smelled blood and rotting meat.

And the distinctive scent of beastmen.

Redmane opened his real eyes and got to his feet.

He had his spawn stand at the junctures he had to take, so he wouldn’t make a wrong turn. Even having scouted ahead, it took a goodly time to traverse the maze of caves and find the staircase.

No sooner did his foot touch the step, did the System notify him.

You have entered Dungeon: Deepwell Monastery

Tasks:

Slay Almoner Blazh

Slay Abbot Vasili

Slay Samo, Keeper of the Well

Tasks Completed: 0/3

Redmane climbed the stairs, the stone cool and dank under his feet. And when he entered the monastery his eyebrows rose.

Torches lit the room in sconces on the wall. It was circular, and quite large, and its centerpiece was an immense stone pool full of water that looked pitch black in the low light. The room had no ceiling, instead it stretched off into the darkness above, seeming to go on forever.

There were doors on this level, and the foot of a stone staircase which appeared to wind all the way up to the surface high above, in the peaks of the Skalla Mountains.

But right in front of him, against the curved wall, there was a giant scene engraved in the stone.

A ruler, standing tall with a crown upon his head. His garb was strange, it didn’t look like the style of Sencis Karalis or the people of his time. This seemed older.

The ruler held a great hammer in his right hand. In his left, he held two chains. One chain led to a brutish, monstrous hound sitting at his feet. The other led to the neck of a beautiful woman with pointed ears and long, wild hair. To the right and the left of this ruler, a throng of people were depicted kneeling before him.

It wasn’t stimulating any memories. But all the same, it was a compelling image.

The scrape of a footstep wrenched his attention away from it.

Someone was coming. More than one. Five men, or six.

“— It was an easy mistake to make, for the translators at the time,” a hulking beastman came out of one of the doors to his right. His robes were stretched tight over distended muscle in the places they weren’t simply ripped apart. Dried blood stained the corners of his mouth.

“A profound doctrinal change, and you call it a mistranslation!” said an equally brawny monk, following behind.

Another five followed suit. They hadn’t seen him yet. Bringing up the rear was a beastman head and shoulders taller than all of them, who listened to his brothers talk with a beatific smile on his feral face.

Until he looked up and saw Redmane, that is.

Redmane growled. The monk smiled, and his eyes blazed.

Samo, Keeper of the Well

Monster Type: Corrupted

Level 85

Beastman Monk

Monster Type: Corrupted

Level 80

“Brothers, it seems we have a guest,” said Samo.